


Alone in the Fog

by Letterhead



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Anger Management, Disability, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22739212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterhead/pseuds/Letterhead
Summary: Isolated and friendless after a bout of illness, Hermione grabs onto the first person to show her any kindness - Severus Snape.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 46
Kudos: 289





	1. A 'Bit' Sick

It began as a tremor Hermione couldn't seem to shake as she grasped her wand or held the kettle handle, but it didn't bother her so very much. She hardly needed to see a healer over such a silly little thing.

It became a weakness, in that cursed arm scarred with memories. Holding anything in that hand was becoming arduous. Hermione saw a few healers and they all said the same - nerve damage, irreversible, and since she had no pain they couldn't help her. She thanked Merlin she didn't have pain, just the tingling, numb appendage.

But the pain did come, and it came without mercy.

Hours spent curled in bed, writhing in agony as she screamed her throat dry, useless arm twisted from spasms. She'd only been trying to pick up a potion vial. A bloody useless pain potion.

Nothing seemed to work. No tincture or potion, no narcotic or opioid, and because they didn't work, Hermione didn't work. She'd used every sick day and leave of absence she could and now she was on sabbatical from her research department, with a promise to her superiors that she'd have a new book for them at the end of it. 

It was either that or get sacked. 

Her on again off again relationship with Ron became off again and stayed that way. Her friendships fizzled and penpals stayed un-answered. When all Hermione could manage was to roll out of bed, take her dozen medications then murmur to a Dict-o-quill before the pain came rushing back like a tsunami, socializing didn't rank high on her priority list. 

But then months turned into a year. The world was changing without Hermione Granger.

The worst day that year hadn't been when she'd been stuck in the tub and couldn't lift herself out for hours. It wasn't when she needed to fill her prescription for Vicodin and couldn't lace her goddamn boots. 

It had been Harry's birthday. The invitation had come by owl months before, and Hermione had sent an RSVP instantly. She'd mail ordered him a custom wand holster; something he'd need in his job on the Auror force. 

The night of his birthday bash arrived and found Hermione screaming and beating her own arm as it lay useless on the bed next to her. She was mostly naked and the arm had quit on her just as she'd reached for the first bra she'd planned to wear in months. The whole day it seemed fine, but now! Now it was useless, she was useless. In her rage, Hermione took far too large a dose of her pain potion and ended up hallucinating on the bedroom carpet for hours. 

A curt thank you note from Ginny the next week was all the response she got about her gift to Harry. She didn't hear from anyone else after that for a good long while.

Hermione wanted to die. Ideation of that kind was hard to shake when you hardly had anything to live for, Hermione found. 

-

In the paper one morning, Hermione saw an advertisement that so surprised her she couldn't help but read it over twice. Famed Potion Master Severus Snape creates new, non-habit forming pain potion...! To Hermione, a new drug was as good a reason as any to attempt leaving the house, but she simply couldn't. She couldn't use her wand at all any longer, and for a moment Hermione truly thought she'd have no way to get her hands on the brew. Thankfully, she knew just the apothecary she could call, her former place of employ, a place she'd insisted on installing a phone line so she could she could call Harry... back when he was welcoming of her friendship. 

Hermione ordered the legal maximum of NervEase you could by phone and waited patiently in agony for a fortnight. When the case of clinking vials came, Hermione couldn't wait to try the magenta liquid within. The pain in her arm was so severe that day, it had moved into her shoulder. She could only manage to shrug a bathrobe over one arm before giving up in tears. 

Hermione took Snape's potion and waited the recommended fifteen minutes before attempting to use her arm at all. When she hesitantly reached for her cup of tea and somehow grasped the handle with just hardly enough strength to lift it, it went crashing to the floor. Hermione began to cry in earnest, clutching her atrophied but painless arm and sobbed manically.

It was in this startled and half-dazed moment that Hermione crawled over to her shabby desk, pulled out one of her nicest pieces of stationary and  very shakily wrote a letter. To whom may it concern? Why, the god like man who created the wonder potion she now clutched in her left hand. After months of struggling, of sobbing into her useless hand and cursing an unjust world, that one potion was now everything and the man who created it had to know. He had to know just how much it meant to her.

Hermione used up the last bits of energy her body had to send the letter out by owl before collapsing into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep completely undisturbed by pain. 

Relief was the best sleep aid one could ever find.

-

Severus Snape did not receive mail. Not by conviction or design, but simply because he did not maintain the types of relationships that facilitated the exchange of letters. He had few in his life he could tolerate, even fewer he could stomach to consider friends, and those he did were either so brash or so conniving as to realize forewarning Severus of their visits would be a horrid mistake. Severus had a penchant for being busy or sick when people needed or wanted to pop by. He preferred solitude and was loathe to part from it.

So when a pale grey owl tapped on his window early Sunday morning, Severus stood from his chair in the kitchen, hastily drawing his wand lest the thing carry an explosive, arsenic, or gods forbid a  _ fan letter _ . 

Thankfully, after a bit of checking, it seemed above board. He hesitantly opened the half crumpled piece of card to find a strange scrawl blotted and distorted by drips of water. 

And Severus soon realized they must have been from tears. 

_ " Professor Snape - I must tell you how much - how thankful I am for you and your lovely brain at this moment! Your potion, my god, your potion! I have been in pain for so long, I could barely live with how little functionality I had. How much pain --- I'm sure you would not appreciate a long winded letter, so I will be brief - thank god for you, thank you thank you thank you. I could kiss you I am so relieved!  _

_ \- Hermione Granger" _

He'd needed to read it numerous times to understand it quite right, and more to actually believe the words on the card. Hermione Granger had written him and in quite a state. That little girl who had dragged him from the Shack and carried him to the triage area of the castle was now, he supposed, a girl no longer, and clearly going through... something. His heart, cold and useless but nonetheless still present, felt a twinge at the thought of that once bright and promising girl being in so much pain that she could - he held up the card again - 'barely function'. Disability was nothing to treat lightly, and he wouldn't wish it on his enemies.

Severus was then, he realized, moved by her thanks, and set down to his writing desk for the first time in two decades. 

_ "Miss Granger, _

_ It does me well to know a potion I have crafted has gone to good use. Instead of thanking god, you should perhaps thank yourself, as you are perhaps the only reason I remain on this earth. _

_ As for your comments about assaulting my person, I suggest you refrain.  _

_ \- SS" _

He sent the small reply off on the wings of his charcoal owl, content that was that. If Miss Granger was receiving comfort from his potion, then all he could hope was that she exercised restraint and kept strictly to the dosage instructions on the bottle. 

In the days following, Severus felt an ache of anxious regret for replying at all. The shackles of his socially awkward youth demanded he think over his actions in every imaginable way. It sickened him to feel like... like such a ninny. What he wrote hadn't mattered, who he wrote hadn't mattered either. He resolved not to consider the situation any longer. 

That proved impossible when exactly fifteen days later, he stood in his garden examining his Gordolobo plant for possible insect damage when the weakest pop of apparition sounded near the rear of his property. Severus dusted off his hands on a cloth, prepared to scold Narcissa Malfoy for not appearing in his parlor as she ought to when he came face to face with a bedraggled fluff of hair tied upon an equally bedraggled and mournful face. 

Although, upon seeing him, Miss Hermione Granger lit up considerably and strode to his side, invading his personal space. "Professor!" 

"I beg your pardon?" Snape growled. "What the devil are you doing trespassing in my garden?" 

Her face fell at that. "I... did you not receive my letter?" 

"No, I did not receive any such..." he began to sneer, but just then that same pale owl came floating down into the garden as well, perching on a fence post and extending its leg to Severus. He snatched the post and opened it, rolling his eyes at the content. 

Could she pop by for tea? Un-bloody-likely. 

"Bloody useless owl!" Hermione frowned. "I'll need to have a word with you when I arrive home. Now shoo!" She waved away the bird with a weak hand. "Well, now you've had my note. Tea then?" The chit was already shrugging out of her coat as she moved towards the back door of his house, her movements shaky and ineffectual without employing the use of her right arm at all. She was chattering on about something she'd read, on and on as he followed her into his own house, darting from one topic to another as she still wrestled with her coat. She was almost desperate to unload her thoughts, Severus realized.

It seemed that after his ill thought out reply to her missive, Hermione Granger had latched onto him like a socially deprived leech. A leech who couldn't take her own damn coat off. 

"Here," Severus offered brusquely, reaching out and tugging off the offending garment. He hung it on a peg by the kitchen door then turned to see her dragging his kettle over to the sink, again with the use of only one hand. Starkly, by her side dangled her right arm, useless and limp in appearance. The musculature seemed quite thin compared to the other arm, the one which was busying itself filling and setting the kettle to boil. With the keen eyes of someone who regularly diagnosed people to pass the time, Severus noted the blue coloration beneath her nails and the way the skin of her upper arm seemed pinched and puckered. 

"Where do you keep your box of tea, Professor?" Hermione asked breezily, still busying herself around his kitchen. 

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?" he inquired in reply. Was she here for more potion? What could she possibly want from him? 

"For tea, silly," she responded casually, opening cabinet after cabinet in search of the tea. "Really sir, do try and keep up." 

In two long strides, Severus was at her side and holding her limp arm, pinning her with his eyes. 

"What happened to your arm? What would cause this?" He indicated with a nod to the disfigurement. 

"A..." she gulped down air, anxiously looking away from him. "A steroid injection for the pain. Nothing to worry about." 

"So tell me, is this arm why you are in my kitchen?" he pressed her, her arm in his hands feeling bony and almost lifeless. 

"No, sir, not at all." The kettle began to whistle, startling the girl. "I'll get that?" she asked, but he did not release her. Severus was not processing having someone in his home very easily. 

"Explain yourself," he demanded, holding her hostage as the kettle filled the small kitchen with a wail. 

"I..." She bit her lip, an anxious habit to be sure, before her eyes seemed to glass over with resigned tears. "I needed some company today. It's been months since I've seen anyone and I... " 

Ah, loneliness. How very feeble of her, but he supposed it could be expected. She had been a very social girl at school and would not take well to the isolation that came with chronic debilitation. 

Severus Snape huffed out a breath, resigned.

"My teas are stored in that drawer," he indicated with a wave of his hand, releasing Miss Granger as to pull the screaming kettle from the stove. The immediate quiet was a relief, and in it he could hear the girl next to him audibly sigh. 

This was going to be a very strange afternoon tea if ever there was one.

-

They spent the greater part of the afternoon sipping stout and earthy Pu'er as the Professor grilled Hermione on her illness. How long had she been experiencing symptoms? Had she seen Healer Ramsey at St. Mungos? Had she done any research on muggle physical therapy or acupuncture? The answers all came from Hermione's lips like spilt milk, desperate to escape her but it brought an almost overwhelming amount of shame to speak on any of it. She was an independent woman by nature, and she hated feeling frail, but here she was. Atrophied arm limp in her lap as the Professor assessed her. 

Once he had exhausted his barrage of inquiry, Hermione felt herself slip suddenly as she blurted - "I think, with all that's been going on with me, my friends rather hate me." She regretted it the moment it was out in the air, but Snape quickly snatched it up before she could change the topic. 

"Your obnoxiously heroic friends? It seems unlikely they would abandon you in your time of...  _ need _ ." 

"Well that's just it," Hermione sighed, slumping back in her chair. "I've rather abandoned them. I cancel plans and deny floo entry so often that I'm sure they all feel put out." 

"Put out?" Snape set his cup down with a sharp clatter. "You are an imbecile." 

"Sir!" Hermione replied, shocked. 

"No, truly." The Professor sat forward. "No one could possibly expect that much from you, girl. You are chronically ill and from what you've told me, you're dealing with this alone. It's intolerable that anyone would expect anything more of you. That includes yourself, Miss Granger." 

"I..." Hermione sniffed, feeling tears well in her eyes. Was Professor Snape right? Was she being too hard on herself? If that were the case then... "I can't blame them," she murmured, wiping her tears on her sleeve before giving in to the desire to cry. 

"Then don't. You are far too magnanimous for it, I'm sure, but I shall blame them. Potter and Weasley and their lot will run headfirst and blind into danger but are absent when you're not around to wipe their arses, and I cannot pretend I'm surprised," he sniped, rolling his eyes. Hermione felt a giggle burble out of her at that. Wipe their arses? That did describe their school careers fairly accurately, if not crassly. 

With her good hand, Hermione reached out and placed it on the Professor's arm. "Thank you, sir. For tea and the conversation." 

His face seemed to flush then, and he glanced down at her hand like it was a foreign object. "Yes, well..." he muttered in reply, standing suddenly. "You really should be off, shouldn't you?" 

He was sending her away, but Hermione couldn't let it get her down. Coming to see him made her feel lighter than she'd been in months. 

"Yes, sir."

-

After Miss Granger had gone, Severus sat in his chair for quite a while staring at the dirty tea ware in bemusement. He hadn't had company in some time, and it had felt, dare he admit it, quite nice to share a cup with someone well spoken and intelligent. Not only that, but someone who had no expectations of him. Minerva wanted him to come out of retirement, Narcissa wanted him to send messages to Lucius for her, and likewise, Lucius wanted him to pass along messages to his former wife. Hermione hadn't wanted anything other than company and a good cup of tea, which hadn't exactly been an imposition to provide. 

Before he realized it, Severus was returning to his writing desk, setting himself down to pen a note inviting Hermione Granger to return. 

Severus only hoped it wouldn't be a mistake to invite her into his life. 

She returned to his home before his owl could have possibly brought her the missive. He found her bouncing on her toes happily on his front steps, holding a white box of confections and smiling broadly. Severus was pained to realize he found her expression... attractive, and her presence appealing. 

Gods forbid she realized that, however. 

"Why are you here?" he asked, intentionally rude. Her smile wavered but she was not deterred. 

Hermione held the white box aloft. "I brought pastries," she explained. "Will you invite me in?" 

Severus sighed and slumped his shoulders theatrically, opening the door wide enough for her to enter. "If I must." 

All afternoonthey discussed an article he'd written for Potions Quarterly and debated the ethics of ingredient harvesting. Severus found himself feeling a bit dower once she'd gone. 

Was he... did he fancy Miss Granger? Surely not.

She continued to pop by like that for quite some time. Every two or three days he would find her at his doorstep looking for a cup of tea and conversation, usually carrying a box of nibbles for them to share. Unconsciously, Severus was taking extra care with his appearance on those days, making sure he had plenty of exceptional teas to choose from if she were feeling adventurous. 

He was becoming attached to her. Reliant on her company. It was unusual, but not undesirable. 

That afternoon she had appeared again, with a little bag of croissants and a desire to sample his assortment of Japanese greens. He'd brewed it this time, and they settled into what he was becoming to think of as 'their' chairs for a lengthy discussion on Hermione's book.

It was then he really let himself look at her. Look past her wild hair and frantic, one armed gesturing and see her.

"You appear in good spirits today," he commented, looking her over. It wasn't wrong to say, she did look brighter, more awake, and possibly a kilo or two heavier in a healthy sort of way. 

"I do feel good lately, sir," she replied cheerily, taking another bite of croissant. "All thanks to you, no doubt." 

Severus looked up from his tea cup at that, eyes wide. Was she claiming his... company was helping her? "I... well," he murmured ridiculously. Was he stammering? 

"I've had so much more energy since taking your potion. Without the pain, I can work around my muscle weakness and actually get some things done. The book I've been working on is almost through editing!" she beamed. "You can't imagine how good that feels, to finally get it done." 

"I see." Severus hated that he felt disappointed. Bah, who was he to feel that way? He had no right. They barely knew each other. Of course it was the potion. 

It always seemed to be that way. 

"I feel so good that I really..." Hermione paused to sip her tea. "I really think I should get back to work, get back to socializing with my friends. I've felt so useless for so long and I just..." 

"I understand," Severus replied earnestly. "After waking in St. Mungo's I had a similar experience. I couldn't speak, barely ate, and sat uselessly in a hospital bed for six months. Once I was released, I felt I had the motivation to do things I hadn't previously cared about much." 

"Exactly!" Hermione sat up. "I've heard that Luna is hosting a brunch for all our old school mates and I find myself wanting to go. It's not something I would particularly enjoy, but I miss... I dunno, just being myself around people," she explained. "It's tomorrow." 

"Ah," was all he could think to say. His potion had helped her heal, so well that she wouldn't need him any longer. She would return to her job and her friends and have no need for long winded conversations in a drafty old house with her likely least favorite former professor. 

He let the silence drag out. 

"Well, I..." Hermione stood, a little wobbly. "I won't keep you." 

Severus stood as well. "I'll get your coat," he offered tersely. 

"Thank you," she whispered as they reached the doorway. "Truly." 

He wanted to push her out the door. Severus did not invite people into his life just for them to walk out, but in this instance it felt as if he did not have a choice. He wouldn't let it get him moody either; this is just how it was. Could one continue to 'grow up' even at forty-six years of age? 

Severus helped her into her coat, sensible and flattering green wool that had felt warm in his arms. "Any time, Miss Granger. Any time." And she left. 

The answer, Severus supposed, must be a yes, for he felt ages older once she'd vanished. 

-

With more energy than she'd felt in months, Hermione dressed carefully for the ladies brunch. She experimented with left handed wand movements and managed to secure her hair with a sticking charm after some trial and error. With a spring in her step, she picked up a quiche from her favorite local bakery and apparated to Lovegood House, both parts anxious and excited to see her friends again. Through the large oak doors and into the foyer she went, and through the stone walls she could hear the din of chatter and laugher coming from the kitchen. Hermione spotted Luna standing with Ginny, both of them a breath of fresh air to her socially starved brain. 

And then she heard them. 

"Is that every one?" Ginny asked Luna, taking a sip from her mimosa. 

"Not every one. Hermione said she would be coming," Luna's bell like voice carried through the house, her brows scrunched together in concern. 

"Hermione is such a flake these days, she may not even come," Ginny said offhand. There was no malice in her tone, no intent to injure, and yet it did. Hermione felt dizzy.

"She's been a bit sick lately," Luna replied softly. "But I do wish she would make more of an effort. She's always saying she'll come and yet never does."

"I know!" Ginny exclaimed, the volume making Hermione shake. "She didn't even come to Harry's birthday. It was such an upset to him, getting that gift from a post owl. She didn't even say why she didn't come."

Hermione could not stop to listen any longer. The conversation became a lone buzz in her ears, and as their words set in it got louder and louder. 

In a state, Hermione apparated straight from the entryway of Luna's house to the one place she felt safe. She turned in on herself and with a crack, landed next to Severus' coffee table, the man himself sitting down with a book. He took one look at her over his tome and she couldn't help but burst into tears, throwing herself into the nearest chair. 

And then the dam broke.

"Why?" Hermione cried into her hands repeatedly. 

"Good god," Severus stood from his seat and came over to her. "Whatever is the matter? What happened?" 

"N-nothing happened, I couldn't face them, they... they..."

Severus swiped an anxious hand over his face before scowling. "Then you are physically alright? Gods, woman, I was worried you'd gone and splinched yourself."

"No, no..." A pause as Severus handed her a clean white hanky. Hermione held it in her hand uselessly.

"What did they do to upset you so?" Severus sat down next to her, his nearness a now familiar and strong grounding force.

"They..." a brief streak of anger coursed through her. "Apparently I'm a  _ little _ sick, apparently I'm a  _ flake _ . God forbid I can't move from the pain on my best mate's birthday. I should have had someone levitate me there!" 

"Do I need to fetch you a calming draught?" Severus asked simply, a quirk to his brow.

This seemed to bring back her tears. 

"I just don't understand," Hermione sobbed morosely. She was at the end of her rope. Why did it seem like no one cared at all? Did they all despise her that much?

"You must not let this bother you," he said solemnly. "Pretend as if you've never known them, or convince yourself you despise them, but do not dwell. It was chatter, nothing more." 

"Is that how  you deal with gossip? Isolation?" Hermione asked him, a pathetic wobble to her voice. 

"It is how you must to maintain any level of sanity!" he replied shortly. "People are untrustworthy, unreliable. It is best to avoid them at all costs."

"But..." Hermione's voice was thick with distress. "But I wanted, I needed to see my friends."

"A personality flaw, I assure you. You can grow out of it," Severus replied sardonically. "I did. The closer you become to people, the more you trust them, the more painful and lasting the wound when they inevitably hurt you." 

"But I..." Trust you, Hermione wanted to say, but she dare not speak it lest his words of caution become a self-fulfilling prophesy. The thought pained her more, and without thought Hermione launched herself into his chest with a whimper. 

He huffed a surprised breath into her hair. "Well..." almost hesitantly, his arms came around her, a soothing hand patting her back softly. "There there. It's not worth getting upset over, is is?"

"I..." Hermione sniffled, her useable fingers gently stroking the folded cotton sleeve of his shirt. 

"Is it?" he asked again, though his question was more like a demand, his deep voice brokering no argument. 

"No," Hermione snuffled back her tears, the beginning of mortification coming over her. Gods, she'd acted so foolishly all day! "No, sir." 

"That's a girl," he murmured into her hair, and the praise had her stomach twisting pleasantly. "Now, is that a box of quiche you dropped on the floor?" 

Hermione let out a surprised and watery giggle, sitting back and looking up at her former professor and current friend. "Yes, yes it is." 

"Well," he smirked down at her. "We shouldn't let it go to waste." 


	2. Dependency is a Four Letter Word

The pain was back. 

Hermione struggled to hold her spoon to portion out her potion and winced at the throbbing. On her bad days her arm was limp but with her potions and pills making it usually painless, but there would be hell to pay if she couldn't enjoy her 'good' days due to the overwhelming pain.

"No..." Hermione pleaded with it. She wasn't going to let it happen like this. She wouldn't let the pain come back, not now that she was back to work, back to feeling at least partially human again. Her stomach churned with guilt as she covered the dosage instructions with her thumb and poured a second spoonful that morning. Although the potion was sweet, it felt like ash in her mouth. It felt wrong. With a squint, Hermione glanced at the listed side-effects. Jitteriness? Insomnia? Worth it to be pain free.

She needed it. 

-

"So how is returning to work?" Severus asked lightly, emptying his second cup of tea. It was their time again, and he relished having Hermione in his home, in his life. He'd even become comfortable with what he'd previously deemed 'small talk'. It no longer felt like a chore to ask after his conversation partner's day, or their thoughts. He truly wanted to know those things about Hermione. When had she stopped being Miss Granger to him?

"Well, I suppose," she replied with a soft smile, one he treasured. "It's exhausting, but I haven't had any issues. I was concerned they would judge me for my sabbatical but it seems my superior at the institute is pleased with my book." 

"As he should be, it's meticulously researched," he assured her kindly, reaching forward for her empty cup to fill it. He could smell her delicate French soap as he neared her, and he let himself briefly look into her hazel eyes. They were always so honest and expressive.

But today they were jittery.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Your pupils are blown out. Are you feeling alright?"

"What? Oh," Hermione muttered, covered her eyes with the back of her hand. "I was just looking at the lamp. It's fine." But surely it was not fine, and she had not been looking at the lamp. Her hand was shaking, quivering violently.

Severus stood in a rush, a wave of fear and loathing overcoming him. He knew this, he'd seen it before. 

Hermione was abusing his potion. 

Severus grasped her hand and pulled it away from her face, looking deep into her eyes again. This time he looked for the truth. "Are you following the dosage instructions for my potion, Hermione?" 

Hermione snatched away her hand and frowned deeply. "Y-yes, of course," she responded tightly, but her voice quavered and she glanced from him guiltily in a way he'd seen many a student do before. She was hiding something. 

"Hermione, I do not appreciate being lied to," he let his voice become tense and dark, like it had been when he was her professor. "Did you take more than was advised?" 

She crossed an arm over her chest defensively. "I don't appreciate the inquisition, Severus." 

Severus slammed a hand down on the tea table, rattling the set. "Then do not avoid answering me! What you are doing has serious consequences, consequences you seem to care little about!" 

"Do not shout!" Hermione cut back, her eyes wide. She stood from her chair and went behind it, as if she were frightened of him. "I did nothing wrong!" 

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly. He did not want to be that man any more. "I didn't mean... mean to frighten you, but Hermione... you have to realize how serious this is. You can seriously harm yourself if you overdose with my potion." 

"It's over the counter, Severus!" She threw her left hand up in exasperation. "And I'm fine. I'm managing just fine." 

"Promise me, Hermione. Promise me you won't overdo it," he implored her, attempting to let his words carry all his concern, all his care for her. 

Hermione's eyes softened, her arm dropping to her side. "I promise." 

Severus fell back into his chair, drained. "See to it that you follow through with that promise, then." 

Hermione also took to her chair again and they sat in a tense silence for some time. The mantle clock chimed four in the afternoon and Severus rubbed at his temples. Time for her to go, and wasn't he just terrified of that. 

She stood, and he wasn't sure if he'd see her again soon. 

"Will I..." she started from behind his chair, a little anxious perhaps. "Will I still see you for lunch on Thursday?"

Severus sighed in relief. "Of course. I will pick you up from your office." 

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, soothing the fabric of his shirt and the tensed muscle beneath. "Good. And Severus? Don't worry." 

"I cannot promise that, but I will try not to," he replied wryly. 

The week went by at a crawl, and Severus counted the days before he could see her again. It wasn't just that he was, well, he could admit it now, enamored with the witch, but now he was truly worried. He'd tried not to worry, reminded himself that she was a sensible girl who wouldn't disregard instructions, but he still slept terribly, kept up by anxious and intrusive thoughts. What if she was over-medicating? What if she was seriously ill and not telling him? It was these thoughts that had him traveling to her office nearly an hour earlier for their scheduled lunch, desperate and hungry to see her face healthy and smiling. 

He approached the secretary's desk at the institute. "I'm here to see Researcher Granger." 

The secretary's bland expression fell at that. "I would also. She hasn't been in to her office in two days and I desperately need her signature for something." 

Severus felt the earth move beneath his feet. Two days? Why wouldn't she be at work? He suddenly felt ill and turned on his heel, not even waiting to leave the building before apparating directly to Hermione's flat in London. He appeared on the doorstep and frantically rapped his knuckles on the green door. 

Yet no one answered.

"Hermione!" He shouted through the wood, banging his fist hard enough to hurt. "Hermione, please!" Again, there was no response. Severus pulled his wand and cast a Notice Me Not charm on himself then turned his wand on the door. 

"Alohamora!" But the lock wouldn't budge. She'd warded it against such simple spells, of course she had. He tried a few more, even attempting to Bombarda the hinges, but the entryway seemed impervious to magical intrusion. 

"Bugger this!" Severus raged, pocketing his wand and stepping back. He breathed deeply then, with a swift movement, kicked the center left of the door, nearer to the hinges. "Come on!" Again, and he felt the wood splinter near its weakest point. A third kick, and finally the doorjam gave way enough that he could shoulder through the pieces that still hung from the bottom hinge. His knee smarted as he barreled inside, but he paid it no mind. He had to find her. And if it turned out that she was having a lie in and he'd broken her door for no reason, he would happily have it fixed, but the swirling anxiety in his stomach told him it was not nearly alright. The living room, full of books, was empty of her presence. The kitchen and her bedroom too. 

As he passed the bathroom, from the corner of his eye, he saw her. With a cry of fear, he dashed in and fell to his knees.

He found her on the cold tile floor in a puddle of her own sick. 

Severus brushed back her hair from her face, curly tendrils sticking from the sheen of sweat that cover her skin. 

"Hermione, Hermione," he murmured, terrified. Her pulse was thready, but present. As he flipped her from her back onto her side, her eyelids fluttered open, pupils huge and afraid. 

"It hurts, _hurts_..." Hermione groaned quietly, clutching at her typically limp arm. It lay at her side misshapen and twisted, as it did during the worst of her episodes. 

Severus felt he could cry, seeing that she was at least somewhat alright. "I'm here, love, I'm here. I'll take you to hospital," he told her as he gingerly went to pick her up. Behind her were the remains of a few glass potion vials, crushed by her slumped body. Gods, she'd lied. Of course she had, but he had wanted so badly to believe her promise. 

Perhaps sensing the direction of his thoughts, Hermione spoke quietly, her voice a raspy whisper. "It wasn't working anymore, I had to take more." Her fingers dug into her twisted arm as it spasmed sharply. "God! It hurts!" she screamed. 

Severus hefted her in his arms and brought her to the fireplace, preparing to bring her to Mungo's. She'd taken too much of the potion - chronically, if her symptoms were anything to go by - but Severus couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that it was his failings that had rendered her thus.

-

Hermione lost consciousness halfway through the hospital atrium as Severus rushed her to the emergency ward. She remained in that state as they siphoned his potion from her stomach, as the orderly exchanged her soiled clothing for a crisp white gown, the same kind Severus himself had worn during his hospital stint. Hermione lay motionless in her cot as he yelled his lungs out into a Howler, releasing every bit of anger and hate he felt towards himself to the Ministry's Medicinal Potion Oversight Committee chairman that had approved his potion for over the counter usage. 

"... and you assured me, ASSURED me that the sale of my potion would be heavily regulated! That you wouldn't give license to sell to potion- pushing apothecaries! And where am I, Chairman Abernathy? In the hospital room of someone who has overdosed on bloody NervEase! Who is culpable? Who?!" His breath hitched as he looked down to Hermione's still form, and guilt nearly overcame him. In his silence, the Howler rolled up and fell to the floor, his message recorded and waiting to be sent to the Chairman. Screaming into the charmed note had been cathartic, but it hadn't absolved him. He should have been more observant of Hermione's state of mind. He should have checked in on her more. 

He'd failed her.

-

It had been six hours, with no progress. Severus was getting anxious, no, terrified, and increasingly sure that his potion should not be on the market in such a relaxed fashion. His murderous Howler had not been sent, but the sentiment still lingered. A trip to his solicitor was desperately needed to push for the potions regulation, which required leaving Hermione's bedside. 

But Severus couldn't leave her. 

His hesitant, long finger stroked her pale face, brushing back her hair as he wished her awake. What Severus wouldn't give for her eyes to open and look at him, so that he could prostrate himself before her and plead for forgiveness. She had needed him, and he hadn't been there. 

"Master Snape?" called a soft voice from the door. It was one of Hermione's nurses, a witch he was somewhat familiar with. "If you need to leave, I will stay with her and send word the moment she regains consciousness." 

Severus looked down at his lap, to where his coat was slung over his legs. Yes, he'd tried to leave the room a dozen or more times but hadn't been able to. 

"I..." But he could not let this issue linger. "Yes, I do need to leave. Please send me a Patronus the second she wakes, if you are able." 

"I will," the nurse agreed. 

It was time for Severus to go. 

In a haze, he left St. Mungo's for Diagon Alley, for the offices of Decker and Forbes. His solicitor, Mr. Decker, would need to be consulted on how best to handle the situation with his potion. Severus barely registered the low gasps and stares as he cut through the busy shopping center, crowded with the dinner rush. He had a goal, to finish his business as fast as possible and return to Hermione's bedside where he belonged. 

But it would not be so. 

"Snape! Professor Snape! Stop!" 

Severus turned on his heel, a deep scowl twisting his face accentuating how horribly draining the day had been. Waving towards him with a now dwindling smile was Potter and his redheaded Weasley wife, hand in hand as they did a bit of window shopping. For a brief instant, Severus was certain he would turn back around and leave them both waving like idiots and continue on with his business, but a surge of rage propelled him forwards into the sphere of the Boy Who Lived to Annoy Him. 

"I'm so glad I caught you professor! You never answer my owls!" Harry Potter grinned sheepishly, his wife looking none too pleased by the sudden intrusion into their date. Severus felt his ire raise even further as he came up to the pair, recalling every tear Hermione had shed over losing her connection with them. Every feeling of inadequacy and failure as a friend she had expressed to him. 

"Do you know why I am hurrying though Diagon Alley, Potter? Because it is certainly not to be accosted by former students," he sneered, crossing his arms with irritation. 

"Uh," Potter floundered, looking to his wife and back. "No, sir. I was just wanting to..." 

"I care little about your wants. The only thing I care about right now, Potter, is the friend you so _conveniently_ neglect," he said darkly, stepping forward. With a sharp gesture, Severus poked the boy in the chest. "She's been seriously ill and in pain this last year, and where the devil were you and  Mrs. Potter ?" 

"What?" Ginerva Potter frowned. 

Potter adjusted his glasses, his face taking on a nostalgic air of irreverence. "Who the hell are you talking about?" 

"Already forgotten her now that she doesn't do your homework, Potter? Pathetic. While you and your wife window shop for a new duvet cover, _Hermione_ is unconscious in hospital," Severus ground out, pleased by their twin looks of horror. "Now  please , get out of my way." With that, he brushed Potter aside and continued on towards the office, keyed up and livid. 

Prat.

-

When Hermione awoke, she was alone in a clean white room with a dozing nurse. The first noise out of her mouth was a groan of pain, one that shot the nurse awake and on her feet. 

"Thank goodness!" the nurse cried before brandishing her wand. A silvery fish appeared in the space before it. "Tell Master Snape that she's awake." And with that, it swam away. 

"Is this St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked roughly, trying to sit up. 

"Just a moment, let me get Healer Moretta!" The nurse sped out of the room. 

Moments later, Hermione heard the crack of apparation in the hall outside her room and a significant commotion. 

"You can't apparate inside here, sir! Sir?"

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Severus' velvety growl came. Hermione's heart jittered to know he was there. In a moment, his dark form appeared in the doorway to her room, and in a few long strides he was by her bedside. 

"Hermione." He grasped her hand. 

"I'm sorry," was the first thing Hermione could think to say.

"Sorry?" Severus barked in laughter. "For what, being in pain? It is I who should be apologizing, for not looking after you better."

"I'm an adult, Severus," she rasped out. "I'm not your responsibility."

Severus knelt down to her eye level, his other hand stroking her cheek. "Foolish girl," he soothed like it was an endearment. "If not my responsibility, then you are my priority." 

And even with the pain, with the weariness that threatened to overcome her, Hermione felt like his words could breathe life into her. "Severus..." she murmured. She was dangerously close to exposing her heart to him. 

Bustling through the door now was a stout healer with a kindly expression and her wand out in front of her. As if burned, Severus sat back from Hermione and dropped her hand. Her fingers felt cold at the absence. 

"Well, shoo, Master Snape. I need to have an evaluation with my patient," the healer explained. 

"Healer Moretta," Severus greeted stoically, standing from his place by Hermione's side. 

"No, don't go. Severus can stay," Hermione entreated, desperate for him to remain. She couldn't help the panic that seemed to well inside her at the thought of not seeing him. 

"If you like," the mediwitch looked between them skeptically, but went to work. Severus settled into a chair by the bed as the healer pulled out a chart, doing a bit of diagnostic wand waving before settling in for the grilling. Her symptoms, how she felt, if she felt up to take some water, and then came the worst questions. The ones that made Hermione nervous. 

"How much of the potion were you taking, by the by?" The healer asked. "Very important you be honest, dear." 

Hermione gulped. 

"I was taking one sometimes two a day," she replied softly, picking at the fuzzy blanket that covered her lap. 

"Spoonfuls?" Healer Moretta asked, checking her chart. "That's about the correct dosage for NervEase, as far as this states."

"No," Hermione admitted, lowering her eyes. "Vials." 

"Bloody hell," Severus ground out, massaging his forehead with his fingers. "How the devil did you get that much from the apothecary? They are supposed to be under strict orders to restrict the amount of potion they sell to customers for  obvious reason s." 

"I..." Hermione chewed on her lip, shame suffusing her face. "I worked at that apothecary when I was in Uni. I trained the current apprentice." At Severus' breath of indignation, Hermione jumped to defend. "But please, don't blame him. I really pushed for more than I was supposed to have. It was becoming less effective." 

"Yes, well, pain potions tend to lose their efficacy when they are _abused_ ," Severus bit back. 

"What else were you taking for the pain, dear?" The mediwitch asked kindly, redirecting Hermione's attention. "We did find other substances in your stomach and your system. 

And now Hermione really did feel ashamed. "Star Grass, NervEase, Vicodin, gabapentin, pregabalin, sometimes I go in for a steroid injection if it feels really unbearable..."

"Vicodin? Is that not an extremely addictive narcotic?" Severus interjected, his expression incredulous. "Gods, the muggle pharmacists are no better than the apothecary. How are you on so many different and possibly conflicting things?" 

"Now, Master Snape, you may leave if you insist on continuously interrupting," the mediwitch frowned. "Are you sure you're alright having him present, Miss Granger?" 

"Yes!" Hermione insisted. "Please, don't go." She grabbed for his hand, and he made sure it was within reach for her to take, although he still appeared displeased.

"Alright, but this is going to be a hard lesson to hear, Miss Granger," the healer sighed. "You have pain, that much is evident, and I'm sorry your medications and potions haven't been as effective as you require, but you need to understand something. When you over-medicate, especially at the rate you've been, your body has an incredible way of preventing disaster. It builds a tolerance that eventually weakens the efficaciousness until you are left right back at square one, do you see?"

Hermione nodded silently, feeling like a child, chastised. She hated it, but that didn't make it untrue. She knew all of this, but she didn't want to hear it. 

"And when your body builds a tolerance, you really need to go back to your healer or physician and have your prescriptions or medications altered, not to the apothecary to decide for yourself what an appropriate dosage is," the healer continued. 

"I know," Hermione grit out, feeling fatigued by the speech. 

"Stacking medications and potions is extremely dangerous," the healer replied quickly, determined to finish. "Stacking and over-medicating is a fast path to needing a liver transplant, dear. Is that what you want? For us to grow you a new liver as you agonize here? Or would you prefer barbaric muggle dialysis?" 

"I get it!" Hermione shouted, unable to listen any longer. Tears burned at her eyes, but she wouldn't let go of Severus to wipe them away. Her muscles were shaking, her face warm in the bright hospital lights. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin. "I get it, I do." 

"No, dear, you don't," healer Moretta sighed. "You obviously have people who care about you." The healer glanced at Severus. "People who don't want to see you suffer. You're a smart woman, Miss Granger, so please leave the doctoring to those of us who can administer remedies objectively." Healer Moretta then stood, conjured a glass of water and placed it on the table nearest to Hermione's bed. "I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're faring," she said kindly before leaving the both of them alone in a tense, emotional silence. Minutes ticked by before Hermione gave in and began to cry. Severus was, as usual, always there when she needed him, and was there for her to fall onto, his arms a safe haven. 

"I'm so stupid," she sobbed, feeling weak and unwilling to pretend. She was stupid. She'd failed to monitor herself, and she'd let herself slip into dependency. Even then, as Severus soothed her back, her muscles began to shake from the pain. She felt the overwhelming desire to take her potion, to take her pills, and it made her want to scream to realize just how reliant she had become on them. "Severus, I need my potion." 

"No, you don't," Severus replied softly, gingerly massaging her trembling body. "You don't need it, and your stomach can't handle it. You've been given anti seizure potion in place of your pregabalin to stop the worst of your neuropathy spasms." 

She began to claw at his shirt, her muscles felt like ants were crawling within them. "Please, please," she whimpered desperately.

Pathetically.

"That's it, it's alright," Severus murmured against her temple, not even flinching as her nails dug into his skin. "Ride it out, I'm here." 

"Don't leave, please," Hermione pleaded unnecessarily. She knew he wasn't leaving but she had the insistent and terrifying feeling he would abandon her. "Don't leave me."

Severus held her tighter, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Hermione breathed greedy lungfuls of his scent as she clenched her fists in his shirt, desperate for any reprieve. Hadn't NervEase been non-habit forming? Well, painlessness had been addictive all on its own and Vicodin likely helped it along, Hermione dazedly thought. 

"Never. I'll stay right here and you'll get through this," Severus swore, and she believed him. 

She had to believe him. 

-

The worst of the withdrawals to her heavy medication stack plagued her that evening. The night was spent crying for potion and trying to crawl out of her skin as Severus dutifully held her. She hated herself for it in the morning when she had a few hours of reprieve, when Severus fell asleep in his chair from the sheer exhaustion of it all. A small, nasty voice inside her wondered if he only stayed because he felt guilt that it was his potion that pushed her over the edge, that he didn't actually care about her. 

But Severus proved that voice wrong at every turn. 

In the next few days, he practically lived at the hospital as she recovered. He argued with her orderlies over the light in her room, brought his own tea from home to brew for her, and coached her through wizarding physical therapy, which Hermione was doing at the moment. Severus had just stepped out, to do her bidding and get a bit of chocolate from the gift shop for her to nibble on. Her stomach hadn't felt settled enough to have anything substantial until today, and Severus seemed eager to fulfill her hearts desire. 

Hermione winced as the therapist gently pupated her arm, the cool of the conjured water doing little to soothe the sharp tingling of her nerves protesting. It was leagues nicer than regular physical therapy, all the benefits of water therapy without having to jump into a swimming pool. The cube of blue water around her arm was waving gently in the breeze from the open window, and Hermione tried to focus on that instead of the pain. 

"You're doing wonderfully, Miss Granger," the therapist encouraged, in Severus' stead no doubt. When he was present, he was very vocally supportive of her efforts. 

He really helped her get through the days at this point, and Hermione wasn't sure she could do it without him. 

"'Mione?" called someone from the doorway. Hermione turned her head sharply, jerking her shoulder painfully as she saw Harry at the door, the bright red hair of Ginny beside him.

The cooling effect of the water dissipated as the therapist stood. "I can come back later." 

"I..." Hermione stuttered. She didn't particularly want to see either of them. Her therapist gave Harry a nod before vanishing into the halls, leaving her alone with Harry and Ginny, with people she hadn't seen in a year. 

"How are you?" Harry asked quickly, sitting in Severus' seat. Hermione didn't know why it rankled her to see him take the seat, but it truly did. 

Ginny followed quietly, her face pinched. 

"Doing better than yesterday," Hermione replied ruefully, feeling a half-truth was better than nothing. 

"Is this about your arm still?" Ginny asked. Her tone was concerned but nearly disbelieving. If Hermione's arms had been working she would have slapped her.

"Of such," Hermione relied tersely.

"I thought you'd gotten better already," Ginny frowned. "It's been ages." 

"It's called a chronic illness, Gin. You know, like it doesn't go away." Hermione knew she was being snappish, but she didn't feel very charitable. She'd just come out of a crucible and didn't feel like coddling her schoolmates. 

"I hadn't realized you were so ill," Harry mused, brows scrunched. "Honestly, we all thought you were just on sabbatical and taking a holiday from life." 

"I couldn't help it, Harry. Some days I literally couldn't get out of bed to save my life!" Hermione replied, exasperated. Her arm was still tingling, signaling a flare up. She didn't want them here, not now. 

"Listen Harry, I appreciate you coming here, both of you, but in all honesty I don't want to see you right now." 

"What?" Harry breathed, surprised.

"I feel like shit, like I've just been run over by a train, and I've felt this way for a long time. You being here isn't making that better, especially to hear you say you've thought me nothing better than a selfish, self-absorbed friend all this time." Hermione shook her head, grabbing her damaged arm and squeezing hard to quell the surge of pain there. "You're not doing me any favors by being here. You're just making yourselves feel better." 

Ginny's face twisted. "How were we to know?" 

"We could have asked," Harry replied sharply. Severus' chair squeaked along the polished floors as he stood up. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I feel like a real prat, as I should, and just..." He gently patted her shoulder, shaking his hair from his eyes. "Please owl me when you're released from hospital." 

"I will," Hermione promised, and she would, but that was all she would hold herself to. Severus was right, most people really were unreliable. 

Moments later, Severus reappeared holding a sleeve of Jaffa cakes. Hermione felt a weight lift from her the moment she set eyes on him. 

"Perfect timing," she greeted him. 

Severus handed over the nibbles. "I saw the Potters leaving," he drawled. " _Shame_ I missed them." His sarcastic tone did much to lighten Hermione's mood. 

"They couldn't stay," she replied, equally caustic as she attempted to rip open the plastic sleeve with her teeth. "I'm not even sure how they found out I was hospitalized."

Severus grimaced, taking his rightful chair. "That is likely my doing. I apologize. The day you woke up, I happened upon them in Diagon Alley and may have... taken them to task." 

"Severus...!" Hermione huffed.

He raised both hands in a placating maner. "Well, it's not my fault the pair of them are narcissistic dunderheads." 

"No, not that," Hermione grumbled. "I can't actually open this packet of biscuits!" 

"Shall I then?" Severus smirked. At her nod, he took the packet and gently tore it open. Perhaps to show off, he pulled his wand and conjured a plate for them and a cup of tea, the familiar scent of Hogwarts' own signature blend making her feel giggly. "The elves won't notice it gone." 

Hermione accepted a Jaffa cake and took an expectant nibble, pleased that her recently iffy stomach was handling her favorite snack. "Thank you, Severus." 

"Anything for you," he replied seriously, his expression enough to take her breath away. "Did the Potters bother you at all? I am truly sorry I told them." 

"Don't be. It wasn't horrible," Hermione assured him. "But you were right about one thing." 

"I was? Well," Severus cleared his throat. "Well of course I was. Remind me?"

Hermione chuckled softly, mindful of the plate of biscuits now occupying her lap. "That I don't need them like I thought I did. I'm not the sum of what my friends think of me." 

"Good, I'm glad," Severus replied with a genuine smile, the one she'd only ever seen him wear around her. 

"Plus I have you," Hermione added, letting the delightful sight of his faint blush and the delicious chocolate orange biscuit distract her from the pain in her arm. "I don't need to wait around for anyone else." 

Severus sat forward, threading his fingers through her hair before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. Now she was really distracted. "You'll never have to wait around for me, Hermione. I'm right here."


	3. Lovingly Misanthropic

"It's just... so good to see you," Harry said with a genuine smile, though his eyes seemed distant. 

They'd made a lunch date to touch base a week ago, and Hermione had been feeling fine enough to show, but they weren't having an easy go of it. Their conversation was stilted and awkward; they had grown a lot in the last year, mostly apart. Harry wasn't that shy little boy any longer, he was a confident, if not a tad socially clumsy adult, a man with a wife and a career and a lot going on in his life. 

And Hermione was sick.

Hermione sighed, stirring her cafe au lait for the dozenth time. "I know, Harry, but..." I hadn't gone anywhere, she wanted to say. She'd been at her apartment the whole damn year, and though she hadn't been as involved as she wanted to, she had  tried ! It was more than Harry, Ginny, or even Ron had done. A mass invitation here, a Christmas card there, but the floo calls had always been from those of her social group who tended to mother - Professor McGonagal and her Uni arithmancy professor. And that was just the rational side. The irrational part of Hermione's brain wanted to blame him for not noticing the signs, not checking in on her when she disappeared. She'd done that for him when he'd pulled away in school, hadn't she? But Hermione knew that wasn't his responsibility, even as her closest friend. He couldn't see signs she wasn't showing. 

Harry brushed his shaggy hair from his face, a concerned frown etched there. "But?"

"Nothing, I just... it's nice, seeing you too," she finally replied, a thin smile on her lips. Hopefully in the future it would be easier to do this whole social thing, but at the moment she just wanted to go home and lie in bed. She was always so tired now that she was off the medicine stack. Exhausted, but dealing with it, very possibly for the first time in a year or more. She'd remedied with potion or pills, sleeping through it and shutting off, but she was done with that. 

Hermione didn't want to live like that. Hell, it wasn't even really living.

"You know..." Harry sat forward conspiratorially, stirring a childish and excitable part of Hermione. "I'm not supposed to tell you this but... Ginny is two months pregnant." 

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback. Pregnant? She'd never called or... well, of course she hadn't. Hermione was an  absent friend. "I mean, congratulations. You must be thrilled." Her congratulations felt hollow and thin. Was she jealous? No, but maybe a little bitter. 

"We are. We're having a party, a baby shower, in a few weeks and... would you come?" Harry beseeched her, his expression suggesting he was prepared for disappointment. "Ginny wanted to ask you but she thought you wouldn't come." 

"How... assuming of her..." Hermione murmured to herself, shaking her head before she could ruin the moment. "Of course I'll come," she insisted, but realized it might be best to be a little more cautious. She hadn't been at her best lately. "I'll try my best to make it, but some days..."

"I understand. If you're not feeling well, just send us an owl," Harry insisted. "But if you can come... will you bring Snape? He's your... well, I don't know. What is he? Are you two seeing one another?" 

Hermione blushed, her stirring spoon clanking against her mug as it stopped suddenly. "I'm... not sure... ah..." She and Severus hadn't really talked about all that yet, and she wasn't certain they ever would. At the moment, they both seemed content to be  very close friends. "I'll ask him." 

"Good," Harry breathed out, relieved. "I have something of his I need to return." 

-

Two weeks later found Hermione struggling to fix her hair up, undecided between wrestling with her wand or with pins. A copy of  Hogwarts: A B Cs was sitting on the counter, wrapped in pale green paper just waiting to be delivered to Ginny. 

A knock sounded at the door, signaling the arrival of Hermione's escort to Harry's house. 

"Come in!" Hermione shouted, tossing the pins onto the counter and grabbing for her wand instead. "It's open!" 

The sound of Severus coming inside and hanging his coat by the door filled the apartment as Hermione placed her wand in her numb hand, using her left hand to keep in place as she attempted some sticking charms. 

"I don't recall that wand technique being taught at Hogwarts," Severus said from the doorway. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed. He looked quite nice in his more muggle attire.

"It's a very advanced style of charm work," Hermione replied, scowling at a stray piece of hair that refused to curl in the correct direction. "I'm sure you never learned it." 

"Know-it-all," Severus cut back, the usual malice that accompanied that moniker being replaced by his own, wonderful brand of fondness.

Hermione blushed.

"I see you've decorated your loo since last I was present," Severus commented caustically, nodding his head to her new fluffy bathmat. 

Hermione laughed, surprised. "Yes, well, considering I recently became intimately familiar with how cold and uncomfortable these floors are, I felt the change was necessary." 

Equally surprised, Severus lips turned up into a smirk Hermione had long since found exceedingly attractive. "My, how witty we are today, Miss Granger." 

"Back to Miss Granger?" she responded, though her joy at teasing him and being teased with giving way to frustration. Her hand was shaking trying to control her wand and her hair was just  not cooperating at all. Weak and over-tired, Hermione dropped her wand and scowled down at it. "Blast it, bloody useless thing!"

"Would you like me to leave you to your tantrum?" Severus asked silkily. "It's not like I'm being particularly useful."

"You're helping me," she insisted, exasperated by her wand. She grasped it again with minor difficulty and set it in its holster, now attempting to simply smooth out the few remaining rampant curls by hand. Severus didn't ask if she needed help or insert himself into her struggles. She knew that he would help only if she asked, and she was thankful for it. "You're motivating me to actually finish getting ready. Without you here I probably would have already gotten back in bed." 

"And we can't have that," Severus replied snarkily. "What would the Potters do if they didn't receive another gift for their unlucky sprog." 

"Aww, don't be nasty," Hermione replied, abandoning her hair in favor of her sanity. "Despite everything, I think Harry will be a great father. All he's ever wanted was a family of his own." 

Severus' face strained at that. "I tend to forget that he grew up an orphan," he commented dourly.

Hermione nodded, thinking she knew what he meant. "I feel that way too. Like all my friends who died in the war are just off on some holiday..."

"I would prefer not to..." His face shuttered emotionally. "... not to reminisce." 

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I understand." 

She left the bathroom, heading for the coat rack and she could feel Severus' presence behind her. "Help me with my coat?" 

"If I must," he replied sardonically, though he didn't dither. 

As Severus was helping her slip her arms through her coat, she turned back to look at him. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. I mean it, it will be easier to have you there." 

"Despite how much I detest the notion of spending an afternoon with your schoolmates and their  children , I would not leave you to handle this yourself." Severus then buttoned his own coat. "Plus, I have had no less than three visits from Minerva to assure my presence at this function." 

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "So I've heard. I believe she wishes to tempt you with your old job again." 

Severus replied in kind with his own baritone laugh. "If she thinks I'll be more likely to accept whilst surrounded by children, then she has become absolutely addled." 

Still laughing, they left her flat for her preferred apparation point, Severus supporting her on his arm. As Hermione turned into his grasp for their trip, Severus' mirth had gone from his face. He was gazing down at her with dark eyes, with an expression she'd never seen on his face before. His arms tightened around her just a touch, but it was enough to steal a breath from her.

"Sod it," he murmured suddenly, fingers digging in to her waist as he dipped down. Before Hermione could blink, Severus has claimed her lips, gently at first, but increasingly ardent. He swallowed her gasp of surprise, holding her tighter still and kissing her expertly. She didn't know why she gasped, why she was so shocked. This was exactly what she wanted.

Hermione tilted her head up towards him, luxuriating in the way he explored her lips. The way he moved... it made her desperate, made her want him like she'd never known she could. She melted into his arms, gripping his lapel with her left hand tightly as his lips moved sinuously over hers, as his intense embrace lifted her onto her toes. A kiss had never felt so right to Hermione before, never so natural and wonderful. This was where she belonged. This is where she had been gravitating since the day she landed in his sitting room, upset and overwhelmed and needing the soothing only he could give. 

Gasping again, this time for breath, Severus released her gently, fingering the loose and unruly curls that she'd tried so desperately to tame.

"I hope you know," Severus said lightly, giving her one last chaste kiss before continuing. "I wouldn't go to a  baby shower for just anyone." 

"Oh, I know," Hermione replied breathlessly. She took the moment to give him a kiss of her own, one on the tip of his nose. "And you are wonderful for it." 

-

The Potter residence was an absolute madhouse, at full occupancy with families and small children running to and fro. Severus stood at the corner of the sitting room, nursing a glass of champagne he did not intend to drink as he took it all in. He had to restrain himself from taking points from the little blighters, most of whom had red hair and very poor manners.Two of them, Bill Weasley's children, nearly collided with his legs, but a quick and intense glare from the once most hated Professor at Hogwarts set them to rights. 

Hermione was doing well, it seemed. Making chitchat with her old schoolmates, kindly asking questions he knew she didn't care about just to keep the room talking. Severus shook his head, setting the glass of champagne down on the fireplace mantle. She was far too accommodating, in his opinion, but it was simply her nature. 

He was truly beginning to love her for it.

But despite finally breaching the wall between Hermione and himself, Severus felt completely wound up. Trapped like an animal in the cage that was his corner, watching as the evening wore on and the noise of the room swelled repeatedly. Minerva had thankfully abandoned her mission to take him on again as Potions Professor, the position having recently been filled by someone younger and less prone to... oh, what had she called it? 

Outbursts. 

Severus wanted to be glad. He'd acted as much when she finally left him, acted so smug to have finally gotten rid of her. But another, less forgiving part of him hated her for it. For giving up on him, though he knew that was not at all the case. He was being much too narcissistic. Severus had enjoyed the game of chase they'd been playing regarding the teaching job. It had made him feel wanted. 

Hermione locked eyes with him for the dozenth time across the room, her soft hazel eyes lifting his spirits. Severus nodded his head softly in acknowledgement, though he wished he could rush over and kiss her. 

She wanted him. She made him feel wanted, feel needed. 

This time, instead of glancing back to the gaggle of mothers, mothers-to-be, and jealous single witches, Hermione held his gaze. With a gently flick of her eyes she motioned towards the kitchen, then began moving in that direction. Severus abandoned his vigil by the fireplace, more than content to follow her. 

"Enjoying yourself?" he inquired lowly, wishing so desperately he could do more than simply brush her arm. 

She nodded happily, taking a sip from her glass. "Oh yes, but lord I am exhausted. I hadn't thought it would be this tiring to simply sit around and talk to people." 

"Now you know how I feel, Hermione," he replied, looking about the kitchen. Not an electric appliance to be seen in the whole of it, so Potter must not be doing a lot of cooking. 

"You don't get exhausted talking to me, though," Hermione insisted, sidling up to him gently. Her warmth suffused him and Severus couldn't help but gently take her into his arms, still maintaining a level of proprietary considering anyone could barge in the kitchen and find them. 

"Yes, I do," he corrected her softly, caressing the sides of her face with his fingers. "Pleasantly exhausted." 

Hermione blushed scarlet, and Severus couldn't help himself from leaning down, hoping to steal another of her kisses.

Their solitude was broken by the arrival of the soon to be parent. Potter was joining them, a pleased and slightly drunk look about him. God, he did not want to deal with tipsy children today. 

Hermione left the near-embrace they had been sharing, turning to look at Potter. "Hey, Harry." 

“Could I have a word with Professor Snape?” Harry asked the both of them, though he seemed to be addressing Hermione more than himself. Severus willed Hermione to stay by him and deny the boy, but Hermione was far too obliging. 

“Sure, Harry,” she agreed gently, favoring Severus then with a small smile. “I’ll just get a refill." She took her empty glass and disappeared to the farthest corner of the kitchen, keeping her eyes away from them in an attempt, no doubt, to afford them some privacy.

Privacy Severus did not wish to share with the boy.

“I’m sorry if this is a bother, sir...” he began, and Severus couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Then why bother me at all, Potter?” Severus replied with a drawl, wishing he had a drink in his hands to busy himself. His fingers kept begging to twitch at his side, and his eyes were continually drawn to the boy’s familiar face. The face of James Potter.

He had found an equilibrium since his hospital stint, since waking with half his throat clean gone. And while that had healed, Severus had tried to let himself heal from his mental trauma as well, in his own deranged sort of way. He took up recreational meditation, and ceased bottling up his emotions behind repressive shields. That, combined with his natural temper, tended towards outbursts - there was that bloody word again -of the explosive variety. He'd yelled at doctors, physically badgered paparazzi, broken countless objects of sentimental value, but he'd gotten it under control - mostly. Perhaps not through the traditional methods, through therapy or anger management, but through Severus' own special form of elimination. Any person, any place, any memory that made him angry was immediately removed, and if it could not be removed, he removed himself from it. 

Suffice to say, he had been living a very solitary, quiet life since leaving Mungo's.

Potter scrunched his brows, seemingly baffled by his sarcasm, but why should he be? The end of a war didn't mean Severus would suddenly be over the moon to make small talk with the boy. 

"I have these for you. I thought you'd want them back," the boy explained, pulling something from his hoodie pocket. Severus rolled his eyes, what grown man still wore hoodies?

His inner monologue became very silent once he saw what Potter was holding.

"I..." Severus froze as he took in the sight of his own memories. "I did not intend to receive those back." And he wouldn't take them from Potter's offered hand. The last thing he needed was more unwanted memories.

Potter frowned deeply, shoving the vials forward more. "But they're yours. I've kept them all these years in hopes that I could give them back." 

Severus swatted his hand away quickly, scowling deeply. "And I told you that I did not intend to have them returned." When all Potter did was give him a blank look, Severus' patience ran thin. "I don't bloody want them, you imbecile." 

"What's the matter?" Hermione came up to his side, and Severus wished her presence could be soothing, but it wasn't. He wanted to leave her here at the Potter's, he wanted to leave immediately. 

"Nothing," he replied shortly. 

"No, not nothing," Potter cut him off. "He won't take his memories back." 

"Severus?" Hermione looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. 

Severus ignored them. 

He leaned forward darkly, lips pulled back in an angry sneer. "Are you brain dead, Potter? I said I don't bloody want them!" he shouted finally, his voice carrying to the far reaches of the house. The room of party goers next to them fell into a silent hush save for the fussing of that Weasley toddler. 

The three of them stood ill at ease in the tense quiet. Severus felt mortified, but as was his nature, he turned that shame into rage that simmered just below the surface.

After a moment, Molly Weasley bustled in, her face red and angry. "What in the world is the matter with you, Severus Snape? This is my daughter’s day!"

Severus flushed, eyes downcast but angry. He’d certainly made a spectacle of himself. “It was not my intention,” he said in leau of an apology. 

“And Harry.” Molly cast her eyes to her son-in-law. “Ginny wants to speak with you.”

Emboldened and smarting from feeling like such a fool, Severus raised his eyes to the boy, a mocking smirk on his lips. “Yes, toddle off to your wife, Potter. And take those  peace offerings with you.” 

Potter returned his malice in spades and turned to Hermione as be began to storm from the kitchen. “Here, ‘Mione,” he offered brusquely, pressing Severus’ memories into her limp hand, not even checking to make certain she could grasp them. “Owl me when he stops being such a tosser,” the boy uttered before disappearing back into the other room with Molly. Hermione struggled with the vials, dropping two in her attempt to place down her glass of champagne and handle the memories with one hand. They went crashing to the linoleum, silvery blue manifestations of his painful childhood and personal failings falling like limp fish. 

“Severus, I’m so sorry!” Hermione gasped, falling to her knees in attempt to reclaim what was lost.

“Leave them...” Severus instructed her tightly, a painful clench to his jaw, but she refused to heed him. Hermione frantically fished for her wand as so conjure a vial or siphon up the bloody things, and Severus felt himself... break.

“I said leave them!” he shouted then, reaching down and yanking her off the floor quite suddenly. Hermione pulled out of his grasp and turned her eyes to him, betrayed and terrified as she clutched her arm, her limp arm, the one that plagued her so terribly. 

The one he had _grabbed_.

He’d done it again. Severus took a shuddering breath. How was it after all these years of trying so hard he was still becoming his father?

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I...” he began, the cold splash of loathing quelling his anger. Hermione’s expression transitioned in to one of resigned disappointment as she straightened her back then grabbed onto his arm. 

“Take me home,” she told him, her voice clipped and small. 

He wrapped both arms around her, looking deep into her eyes. She needed to look at him, see that he was sorry. “Hermione...”

“ Take me home ,” her voice was dangerous and gave no leeway for argument. 

Wordlessly, Severus complied. He appareted the both of them from the Potter’s kitchen and straight into his sitting room, reeling as Hermione abandoned him the moment their feet touched the floor.

Hermione looked around the room anxiously, holding her arm tightly. “I said home, Severus. I don’t want to be here right now,” she said, keeping her eyes away from him. 

Severus stood still, fingers clenching at his sides. “I apologize,” he replied softly. “It was a  mistake .” He hoped the word carried the meaning he intended to her. His behavior had been a horrible mistake, as if the ghost of his past life had been determined to possess him. “ _ Please _ .” 

But Hermione wasn’t hearing him. She pulled at knickknacks on the mantle, her movements jerky. “Where is the floo powder? I can’t...” her breath hitched, and Severus wanted to die. “I can’t apperate myself today.” 

“It’s on...” he breathed, feeing numb. “On the bookshelf.” 

Hermione turned to the bookshelf, locating his pot of floo powder easily and taking a shaky pinch. Her move back to the fireplace made him feel genuine fear. 

“Please don’t leave,” he begged weakly. “I won’t hurt you.” 

“But that’s the thing Severus...” She turned to him finally, her face tense and drawn. “You just did.” 

Severus stood stupidly as she tossed the powder in and called out, dipping into the flames as quickly as she could. As the green flames swallowed her, Severus felt his cold heart crack, and as they died down, his temper snapped completely. 

The tea set was the first to go. The table was overturned suddenly as Severus vocalized his frustrated anger, and the porcelain heirlooms scattered into hundreds of pieces across the sitting room floor. Then the blasted floo powder that had taken her from him, and the books behind it went tumbling off the shelves, their spines cracking. 

Severus felt hot tears falling down his cheeks, down the face he knew looked so ugly and unlovable. He grabbed a decanter of firewhisky, one he had promised he wouldn't touch in times like this, and flicked it open, downing far too much before throwing that into the fire like a petulant child. 

Wouldn't Hermione be so disappointed in him? Well this was who he was, and she would need to deal with being disappointed.

He felt himself slide down the wall, porcelain shards digging into his legs as he roughly scrubbed his eyes.

That's all he was, all he'd ever be. An utter disappointment. 

-

Too distraught to sleep, Hermione did anything other than running over what had happened with Severus. Well into the night, Hermione showered, penned an apology to Harry, washed the dirty dishes - with one hand - and refused to cry. By the time dawn came, she was exhausted, weak, and horribly forlorn. Who could she talk to now that she was.. well, could you even call it fighting? They hadn't exactly fought, and Hermione didn't exactly know what to do. All she knew was that she was exhausted and barely holding on and needed to see him, despite how awful he'd made her feel. When Hermione hurt, it was Severus she ran to, and that instinct seemed intact even when it was him doing the hurting. 

It was maddeningly undeniable, and Hermione wasn't sure if she was weak-willed or courageous for deciding to go back to Severus' house that morning.

Hermione didn't particularly want to return to Severus', she would much prefer him to show up at her doorstep with flowers and an apology, but Hermione wasn't deluded. She knew if she didn't make the first move to reconcile, something horrid might happen. And despite how upset she was with him, she wasn't the type to hold grudges. She wanted him to apologize, of course, but if they didn't resolve this quickly Hermione knew he would move far past apologies to torturing himself. 

The floo was still open, admitting her to the familiar sitting room, or what was still left of it. Under her shoes crunched the remains of the lovely vintage tea set they always took their tea with, and Hermione cringed to think of how obnoxiously long the Reparo would be to put it all back together. 

"Severus?" Hermione called, a tad nervous. Decanters of valuable alcohol and spirits lie empty, some in pieces, and the lovely Persian rug was stained with dark colored floo powder. She half expected to find Severus passed out in his chair, but it was turned over and empty. In fact, the whole house seemed empty and in disarray. 

Something horrid had already happened, and Severus was nowhere to be found.

"Is this what he does when he's angry?" Hermione breathed weakly, attempting to gather her quickly dwindling resolve.

Hermione busied herself collecting and smoothing out the rumpled pages of his impressive and priceless book collection, righting furniture and attempting to fix what she could with her numb and achy wand hand. She couldn't ruminate on his destructive streak, she couldn't even pretend to know why he would act so irately, but Hermione couldn't leave now. 

Especially not once she heard his keys turn in the lock. 

Hermione turned towards the noise, feeling a tad guilty having essentially broken into his home. Severus found her standing in the sitting room, his expression unreadable and his clothes unchanged from the previous evening, other than being exceedingly rumpled. 

"I managed to fix a few of your cups," Hermione offered awkwardly, gesturing to the silver tray on the tea table. "But the rug is far past what I can do for it. The books are..."

Severus brushed past her coldly, stepping carelessly on the remaining bits of broken glass to set his shopping bag on the table. "Why are you here?" 

"You've got to be joking me, Severus," Hermione murmured with irritation. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Then just say what you have to say and leave me," he replied bitterly, fishing out a brand new pack of cigarettes from the bag. "Better yet, let's skip all the regretful tears and go straight to you leaving me." 

Hermione ignored him, rounding on his deathly still form. "You're smoking now?"

"Now? More like for twenty years,” he replied stiffly, pulling one from the pack to place between his lips. “And it helps.”

Hermione plucked the unlit cigarette and flicked it back in the bag. "Utter tripe, it helps. Did drinking five years worth of Malfoy's holiday presents to you help? Or ripping apart the house, did that help?"

"And what," Severus scowled, taking his cigarette back and turning towards the door to the back garden. "This little pseudo-intervention is supposed to help me instead?" He shook his head, his hair looking limp and tangled. Hadn't he slept either? "Listen Hermione, I really don't know what you're attempting to accomplish this morning, but I truly can't muster the patience for it." 

"Stop turning away from me!" Hermione cried, grasping his arm. "And don't you dare send me away as if that will make what happened disappear."

"Why are you dragging this out, Hermione? Why can't you just go?" he growled, turning to her fully.

"Drag this out?" Did he mean... when he said leave him did he mean... romantically? Hermione reached out tentatively, stroking her hands along the angles on his jaw, unable to restrain a hopeful smile. He was there, somewhere, she just needed to reach him. "Severus, you silly man."

" _What?_ " he asked, a thin whisper.

"You think I would abandon you after everything we've been through, after all you've done for me?" 

"Well you should! I  hurt you last night," he grimaced. "And I detest pointless loyalty." 

"You have my loyalty, my understanding, and my forgiveness,” she assured him, desperate and hopeful.

For a serene moment, Severus let her stroke his face, and Hermione felt herself sink down a little in her shoes from both exhaustion and relief. 

But the moment passed. Nothing had been resolved.

Severus' expression darkened as he slowly reached for Hermione's hand to remove it from his face. "Presumptuous as usual," he gritted out, dropping her hand like hot stone. "I did not seek your forgiveness. All I want is to be left alone." 

Hermione blinked back sudden tears, confused and over tired. "I-I don't understand..."

He smiled a tight, angry grin that made her stomach turn. "Perhaps you should listen more instead of _endlessly_ _ talking _ ."

Stubbornly, Hermione stood there. "But I forgive you, Severus. You hurt me, but I understand, and I forgive you." Her mind was nearly addled feeling as she struggled with his unmoving attitude. "Why won't you let me forgive you?"

Severus sneered down at her, his eyes judgmental and harsh. "Why do you insist upon foisting your forgiveness on me? Are you that desirous of a repeat of yesterday evening?" He let out a harsh chuckle that felt tinny in Hermione's ears. "Why are women so charitable to their abusive partners?" 

"But that was just last evening!" Hermione insisted, feeling frayed and uneasy. "And you're not abusive, good lord Severus! What happened, that's not who you really are..." 

"That is exactly who I am!" he shouted, his voice ringing in her ears. "I am angry, and I am vile, and I will hurt you again, so just  go away already. " Severus then thrust open the door to the back garden, casting a final look at her over his shoulder. "Don't be daft," he murmured darkly, and Hermione knew she had already failed. She'd been nothing but daft the entire morning.

She felt herself cry, begin to shake as he lit his cigarette and smoked on the back porch. Why wasn't he listening to her? What was she to do?

Go away already, his voice echoed painfully, and so she would. She would go. Hermione felt for her wand with a trembling hand, eyes blinded by tears. She was extremely tired, holding back a sob, and a bit unsure of where she should even go, but she knew she must. 

Hermione apperated, with a weak and awful pop. 

And in the emotional turmoil, Hermione nearly didn't feel the sudden blinding pain as she popped out of Severus' sitting room. 

-

The cigarette was a nice distraction from the sounds of Hermione's pitiful whimpers and cries, tears she shouldn't shed over ridding herself of baggage such as himself. It kept Severus from watching her leave, from torturing himself like he had last night. He didn't want to see her leave him yet again. 

He wasn't angry, although he easily could be. Not with her, for being too good and too desperate to knit it all back together, but with himself for ruining another good thing in his miserable little life. About the time he woke half-slumped on the floor, Severus told the loathing and the rage to take a break and let him pull it all back together. Have a smoke, have a cup of coffee, clean up the mess he'd made, and move on.

But Hermione hadn't let him, so determined was she to do a little fixing of her own. The difference being that the things she wanted to fix couldn't be unbroken. Severus knew firsthand how true that was, how ruined his relationships were from the start. Like beginning a race without being on the track. 

Utterly fucking pointless. 

He stubbed out his cigarette, desperate to get back to picking up the pieces of his life.

Severus almost missed the blood on the carpet, fresh and just... there. Exactly where he'd left Hermione to take herself home. Exactly where she had decided to apperate out from. 

But she couldn’t exactly apperate herself lately, could she?

Loathing was at the door, banging it down. He'd upset her and forced her away and bloody hell - "Hermione, you stupid girl, you've splinched yourself!" he uttered, fear weighing him down heavily. The loathing had broken through, and Severus knew that yet again he'd hurt her. Yet again he'd brought her pain. Why wouldn't people just stay away from him?!

He apperated to her flat, straight into her living room now that the wards admitted him. With a sick sense of deja vu, he panic checked each one of the rooms of her flat, desperate to find her but terrified of what he'd find. 

But she wasn't at home at all. 

"Where the hell are you, Hermione?" he shouted into the empty apartment.

A rattle from the rubbish bins outside caught Severus' attention, enough that it had him opening her front door to look. Across the road, in the little alley where Hermione preferred to apperate from, was her half-slumped form, clutching her arm and leaning against the brick. 

Severus rushed forth the moment he saw her, the door slamming behind him. As he approached, he could see blood soaking trough Hermione's fingers as she clenched the splinch wound, her eyes wide and skin sheet white. 

"Severus?" She murmured breathily, trembling. "I think I'm b-bleeding." 

"Come here, give it here," he instructed her with his gentlest voice, terrified of what he'd find beneath her hand. 

Severus eased her into his arms, taking hold of her hand and gently pulling it from her wound to find a large piece of her coat sleeve missing, along with the skin and muscle beneath. He inhaled sharply at it, returning her hand with his own added pressure. It was bad. Horrific, even, but not unfixable. 

"Sev...?" Hermione called him woozily, swaying against him. 

"I need to get you inside," he explained tightly, worry nearly choking him as he wrapped her in his arms. "You have dittany, don't you?"

"Y-yes," Hermione whimpered, clutching onto him for dear life. "I'm such a d-dunderhead. Do I need to go to hospital?" 

"You're not the dunderhead, I am," Severus cut back wearily, putting all his strength into getting her back inside her flat. "I'm a bastard for acting so rotten to you. As for the hospital, I think I can manage it just fine here." 

"Good, I really don't want to be back there," Hermione confessed, wilting into his tense embrace. "And you're not rotten, just a - an angry sort of man." 

Severus scowled as he lifted her through the doorway and into her kitchen, sitting her gingerly into a chair. "Not to you, not any more." He didn’t want to be known as an angry sort of man, especially by the woman he cared for more deeply than he cared to admit.

After that, Hermione allowed him to tend to her arm in terrified silence. Severus felt like a great weight lifted from his chest when the blood was finally siphoned away and exposed the wound beneath. The gore had added exponentially to the horror, but in reality it was fairly mundane, if not particularly bloody splinch. She wasn't missing anything vital, and Severus thanked every deity he typically cursed when his fear of seeing exposed bone was proven unnecessary. Dittany and healing charms did most of the work.

But her silence unnerved him.

"I..." Severus nearly choked on his words as he cleaned the wound once more, wiping off the now mostly sealed but still messy splinch. "I honestly cannot believe I acted so... so reprehensible to you this morning. So childish. Perhaps being hungover added to my poor attitude.”

She said nothing, her usually expressive eyes hidden beneath her unruly hair. 

He couldn't wait for her to demand it of him. "I'm sorry," Severus apologized slowly, the nostalgic and unfamiliar feeling of humility nearly overwhelming him. "I am truly sorry for the things I said, the way I've been acting... acting like a fool. I tend to do that, when I'm embarrassed or upset. I... I push people away, so they can't hurt me more than I already am." 

He waited, as he collected fresh bandages from Hermione's first aid kit, but she still did not reply. He'd just spilled his guts to her, and he really wasn't certain what her silence meant.

He clenched his fists at his side. 

"You were prepared to forgive me this morning, but now... I would understand completely if you could no longer be so generous." 

A small snort, as Hermione turned her head from him. 

"Well..." Severus went to wrapping her arm, already concocting a scar removal salve in the back of his head for her. "Well, I'm not sure what you find so humorous about it." 

It was then her head lolled back, her mass of curls falling away from her face to expose her red cheeks from crying, dark circles from lack of sleep under closed eyes. Her lips were gently parted. 

"Hermione?" Severus asked softly, disbelieving. She'd just been splinched and she was kipping?

He listened, and he could hear the faint sound of soring coming from her. Less of a snore and more of a soft little breath, something Severus inanely considered pleasant. Equally as inane, Severus wondered if he could listen to that half-snore every night, and his subconscious immediately answered with a resounding yes. 

God help him, he was right back where he started.

-

Hermione woke in her bed, disoriented and achy. The setting sun was casting warm rays through the window, and above her like a dark shadow was Severus, bent over the bed as he smoothed a large plaster over her upper arm. 

“Sleep well?” he inquired, a hint of teasing in his voice. It made Hermione want to cry, she was so relieved. 

“Y-yes,” she replied, her voice a bit of a rasp. 

The bed dipped as Severus sat down with her, and Hermione struggled to sit up so she could look at him. In the dim light of her bedroom, she could hardly make out his features, but his eyes were clear and full of regret. 

They said nothing for a few, emotionally charged moments, as an ambulance passed by and a ray of blue light passed over the bedspread. 

"You have the hurculean task of forgiving me,” Severus began solemnly. “And I have a seemingly endless list of things to apologize for.”

“Let’s...” Hermione paused as she adjusted the pillow behind her, waving Severus off when he tried to help her. “Let’s begin with the things you do not need to apologize for.” 

Severus looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded to let her continue. 

“I didn’t splinch myself because of you...” 

“Hermione...!” Severus butted in. 

“No, let me finish,” Hermione replied waspishly. “I splinched because I was extremely exhausted and I should have known better.”

“I should have known better...” Severus murmured. 

“Hush and let me finish, Severus!” Hermione insisted. “And you owe me no apology for getting angry with Harry, although I’m still unhappy about it. No, what I want is an explanation. About the memories, about your decision to break things off, or whatever it was... an explanation.”

“An explanation...” Severus exhaled, turning his head away. His face was completely obscured by the curtain of his dark hair, and Hermione didn’t like it at all. 

"Don't push me away again, Severus," Hermione insisted gently. "I don't know if I can handle it, and I certainty don't know if I should put up with it." 

"You shouldn't," Severus replied ruefully. "I can't promise I will always be... emotionally forthcoming..." 

"That’s not what I’m asking for," she reminded him. "You have a right to your privacy and you're allowed to be angry, but you can't play that push-pull game with me. It hurts too much." 

"I apologize," Severus offered gently, head bowed. "I was allowing myself to fall into... old habits, and after the night I had, I was certain it would be best for both of us if you walked away."

"But you don't get to make those kinds decisions for the both of us," Hermione interjected. "A relationship goes both ways." 

"I'm not..." Severus murmured softly. "I'm not accustomed to that, I'm embarrassed to say."

“You’ll become accustomed,” Hermione assured him, gently reaching for him. Severus took her hand in his and held it tightly, his fingers skimming her knuckles. “So please, tell me...” Hermione continued, her voice petering off.

"I was angry,” Severus admitted quickly. “To see Potter, to have the possibility of remembering those moments with clarity, and to have it all play out in public... it was..." Severus struggled, searching for a word. " _ Mortifying _ ." 

Understanding finally fell into place. "I'm sorry Harry put you on the spot like that," Hermione offered sincerely. "You're a private person, he knows that. It would have been awkward even if they had been happy memories." 

"Yes, exactly..." Severus agreed. "But they weren't."

"You do realize you still have to apologize to them, though, don't you?" Hermione explained softly. "We all kind of made a scene at the party."

Severus frowned, and appeared like he would disagree, but his words soothed her. "I know I do," he agreed simply. “I seem to be owing many apologies, lately.” 

“If it makes a difference, I accept yours,” Hermione offered kindly, her voice hushed. She wasn’t sure why she was whispering. Maybe because the bedroom was dark or because it felt more sincere that way. 

“I know, love,” was Severus’ equally ginger reply. 

They sat on the bed in silence, the warmth of his hand the only assurance that she needed. Her arm was starting to smart, but she could handle it. She’d been handling it a lot lately, but today... no, she could still handle it.

"Cook me dinner?" Hermione pressed, resting her head against his arm for only a moment. 

"How does take away sound?" Severus offered instead. "I still have a bit of a hangover and nothing could cure it better than curry.”

“Oh lord, curry sounds wonderful,” Hermione nearly purred. ”My takeaway menus are by the telephone in the kitchen.” 

Severus stood swiftly, pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, then left her in the dim bedroom. Hermione smiled as she heard him moving about the kitchen, dialing the restaurant... 

Her arm...! Hermione winced, head swimming. Her splinch was still raw and tender, but it wasn’t that which made her desperate. Shakily, Hermione reached for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. Inside was her pot of Tiger Balm, her reading glasses, her mother’s rosary, and... Hermione grasped the small bottle of NervEase, finger flicking the cork anxiously. She shouldn’t have kept it, but she had. It would help so much, she knew it. The tolerance would all be gone by now. Just a sip. She’d had a hell of a day and no one would fault her. 

She needed it. 

“Hermione,” Severus called, his footsteps coming from the hallway. “Would you care to order some roti? Or just rice?” 

Hermione felt like a wire inside her snapped at that. The vial, full of salvation, was poisonous in her hand. She turned over and stood, making a beeline for the bathroom, barely registering as she passed Severus in the hall. 

“Hermione? I’m on the phone with them, so speak now...” 

Without another thought, the last vial of NervEase her house contained went down the drain, the vial then tossed in the bin. Hermione had no time for regrets or second thoughts, she wouldn’t give herself the time. Her arm was screaming in pain, but she knew she could manage it. She had to, because there wasn’t another option anymore. 

“Love?” Severus pokes his head in the bathroom, curious quirk to his brow. 

Hermione smiled at him, glad for his distraction. “Roti? Definitely.” 

-

They ate curry on the fluffy carpet of Hermione’s living room, letting the telly fill the house with a dull murmur. Severus didn’t recall what had been on, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was Hermione, and their conversation, and the way Hermione had leaned into his side once their little picnic was over. They shared a bottle of wine, and neither wanted the evening to end. 

Her lips tasted like merlot, and he wanted to drink her in.

But they both agreed it was too soon. They had to mend their relationship before it could reach its full potential, as Hermione put it, and Severus couldn’t help but agree. They had quite a bit of eggshells to walk over and be done with.

They met frequently after that, though in Severus’ opinion, not frequent enough. When she was absent from his side, Severus worried. Was she alright? What did she think of him? Had she come to her senses?

And the niggling reminder, worming around in his brain... he hadn’t apologized to the Potters yet, and he was certain Hermione felt it keenly. According to her, she hadn’t heard from them since the debacle at the horrid baby shower. Severus considered that a blessing, but he knew better. Hermione missed them. 

He only wished she didn’t. 

Weeks passes before Severus put quill to paper and actually wrote to Harry bloody Potter, and still he did not find himself able to apologize. Pride was, as per usual, standing in the way of simply getting this bit of business done. He attempted to explain his behavior in as brief a way as possible, and expressed regret that his wife’s evening may have been tarnished, but still Severus did not apologize. Well, the boy was an adult now, he could read between the lines. 

Severus folded it up and put it in an envelope, an attempt to conceal its brevity, and even went so far as to stamp it with his seal.

But he never sent it. 

The not quite apology burned a hole in his pocket for some weeks as he perpetually postponed his visit to the post owlry, determined that his old owl was due for a holiday. After a while, Severus simply removed the letter and all pretense of him ever sending it. He hadn’t the need, really. He and Hermione were happy, and the Potters didn’t factor into that at all. She’d stopped mentioning her desire to see them. 

And after weeks of teas and dinners dates, the note was completely forgotten, stashed away. Hermione never mentioned it, she was too good to badger him, and he took that as permission to forget the whole thing. He did forget, for a little while, enjoying Hermione’s smiles and kisses, but the guilt still lingered. 

And one evening, an evening Hermione had cajoled him into accompanying her out to Diagon Alley for book shopping, the nameless guilt sprang forward, that apology note forgotten no longer. Oh no, the guilt had a name, and it was Potter. The Boy Who Lived to ruin Severus’ evening, damn him, was standing by the ice cream parlor with his pregnant wife, unaware of Hermione’s and his presence across the road.

Severus desperately wanted to turn away, to pretend he didn't see the couple and hurry Hermione along, but something kept his feet rooted. Perhaps it was that damn letter he ought to have sent ages ago, or perhaps it was the idea that if he continued to do this, continued to act so... so cowardly, he may isolate Hermione more than she already had herself. 

He loved her. He really ought to act like it more.

"Look," he murmured derisively, nodding in the direction of the couple. "There's the Potter's at Fortecue's." His tone indicated his displeasure, but Hermione knew him better than that, he hoped.

She turned to look across the road and smiled brilliantly, her relief and joy palpable. The sting of jealousy was soon chased away by his own desperate desire to please her. So what if he had to share her heart? If he did his duty to her, he would maintain the lion’s share. 

“Shall we say hello to them?” Severus inquired, sighing with indignation. Hermione bounced on her toes excitedly, her beautiful and wild mop of hair dancing as she nodded. 

“Well, there goes our evening,” Severus groused playfully, grasping her hand. Without preamble, he trudged them through the throngs of shoppers, painfully aware that people were beginning to stare. Two thirds of the Golden Trio and the dreaded ex- Death Eater himself, spotted together, at an ice cream parlor. It was gossip waiting to happen. 

“Potter,” Severus called, curt but not unfriendly. 

“Harry, Ginny!” Hermione greeted them enthusiastically. They each hugged her in turn, and Severus thanked god that his misstep hadn’t ruined her friendships enough to deprive her of that. 

“Hermione, it’s so good to see you,” Harry offered in that genuine, boyish way of his. For a painful second, he looked equal parts Lily and James, and Severus wanted to abandon this little meeting, but he wouldn’t. He would simply have to get over it.

“And you, Professor,” Harry continued, his tone now awkward and strained. “Er, Mr. Snape...” 

“No need to be formal... Harry...” Severus murmured, surprising everyone including himself. “Especially whilst you are holding a chocolate ice cream cone. It simply doesn’t suit.” 

Potter blinked, then laughed jovially, disposing of the tension between them all. “Would you like some?” 

“No,” Severus replied shortly, meanwhile, Hermione replied with a resounding - “Yes!” 

Severus rolled his eyes, sighing theatrically for her benefit. “What do you want? Hurry and tell me before I change my mind.”

“Mint chocolate, please?” Hermione begged expertly, her amber eyes wide and pleading. Lord, he couldn’t deny her anything, not now. 

“Fine, you ruddy girl...” Severus complained, turning towards the store. He heard Mrs. Potter call for her husband to retrieve her another lemon sherbet, and to his great displeasure, Potter went up to the counter with him. 

“Well, sir, seems Hermione already has you wrapped around her finger,” Harry commented cheekily as they waited. Small talk was... unpleasant, but apparently unavoidable. 

Through the small crowd, Severus spied his Hermione and the pregnant Mrs. Potter sitting and enjoying a chat. Hermione’s animated expressions and wild hand gestures were quite... charming. 

“You think so, Potter?” Severus inquired stiffly, focused more then on paying for Hermione’s ice cream than conversing. 

“Oh yeah, no need to be coy,” the boy laughed. “You’re a lucky bloke. Safest one in England, I’d wager, with Hermione as your partner.” The boys expression then became rather serious, his eyes intense. “She would do anything for those she loves, you know.” 

“Yes,” Severus agreed softly. “I know.” 

“I’m glad she has someone who can keep up with her,” Harry continued his commentary, sending a boyish smile and a small wave to both of their partners. 

Severus accepted the ice cream cone with a deep and weary sigh. Potter was being congenial, polite, and Severus felt nothing but guilt. 

It was time to grow up once again. 

“Potter... about your wife’s baby shower...” 

“Oh,” Harry murmured, scrubbing the back of his neck. “About that...” 

“My behavior was...” Severus gritted, pushing himself to continue. “Inexcusable. I apologize.” 

Harry blinked owlishly behind his glasses. “You... you do, sir?” 

“Yes,” Severus hissed, vaguely irritated and anxious. Speaking so frankly in public was not his idea of a good evening out. 

“Well, that’s... just fine, sir...” Harry replied weakly. “Best get back to them.” 

“Indeed.” Severus pushed past the boy, quickly placing the ice cream in Hermione’s hand. She accepted it with a smile, one that warmed the darkest recesses of his heart. She didn’t know he’d finally apologized, but it hardly mattered. 

He was already feeling the better for it.

-

After ice cream, and stilted but nevertheless pleasant company with the Potters, Severus brought Hermione back to his home for a spot of tea. Yes, perhaps it would have made more sense for him to simply apparate her straight to her flat, but lately they were having a harder and harder time separating. Even half past ten in the evening they couldn’t say goodnight. 

“I should really get home...” Hermione murmured softly, her cheeks pink from their proximity to the crackling fire, or perhaps her proximity to himself. How she found him in any way pleasant enough to look at for so many uninterrupted moments was beyond him. 

“I can get you your coat...” Severus offered mildly, never taking his eyes from her. He didn’t move from the sofa to get the coat, either, too contented to stay pressed to her side. 

“I have to petition for a research grant tomorrow morning...” Hermione continued, glancing at the clock quickly before snapping her eyes back to his. Her gaze made him desperate.

“What time in the morning?” Severus inquired softly, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder, exposing the column of her neck and delicate ear. He wanted to ravage her neck, whisper vulgarities into her ear... 

“Ten fifteen,” Hermione sighed breathily, her pupils dilated. “And I can’t be late.” 

Severus couldn’t stop himself this time. It was all too much for his thin patience. He placed a soft kiss just below her ear, and delighted in the way she shivered as he began to whisper.

“I can have breakfast ready before then,” he promised suggestively, returning to her neck tofulfill his desire to ravage her.

“I need... sleep,” Hermione gasped, her hands reaching out to his shoulders as her head gently lolled back, exposing more of her décolletage to his eyes. 

“You will sleep very well in my bed, I assure you,” Severus growled, hands skimming up her sides. He had been trying so hard to hold himself back lately. Between her work and her pain, it just hadn’t happened, but tonight neither was standing in the way. 

“Promise?” Hermione asked, her voice thick with desire. 

“I promise, sweet girl,” Severus agreed lovingly. With no more patience to spare, Severus captured her lips and slipped his hands below her derrière, lifting them both from the sofa. Hermione gasped aloud, her hands clenching in the fabric of his shirt. Though his knees protested as he carried her, it was worth it to see the way she practically swooned in his arms. 

“We’re not even to the bedroom yet,” Severus chuckled at the way Hermione was already shuddering against him. 

Hermione tightened her hold on his neck, nuzzling him. “Hurry.” 

Severus couldn’t help but be spurred on. 

Hermione took the opportunity before her and reversed their positions. Severus gasped as she seated herself upon his lap, her dainty hands grasping his erection and teasing it gently. 

“Hermione...?” Severus murmured, dazed. 

“This is how I like it,” she replied softly, slipping his member between her folds. The edges of Severus’ vision began to vignette with pleasure. “Do you mind?” 

“Not... not at all,” he assured her breathlessly as he grasped her hips, urging her to begin the dance in earnest. She was lovely atop him, her wild curls cascading down her back, long enough for him to tug the ends. Her mischievous eyes alight were with pleasure. “You belong on top of me.” 

Hermione smiled, pleased by his assessment, then began to mount him. “And you belong inside me,” she replied, voice strained with desire. Severus grit his teeth as she took him in, threw his head back as her walls squeezed him mercilessly. Gods, but she was incredible. 

“Christ, witch...!” Severus rumbled in encouragement, his grasp on her hips complimenting her rhythmic bounce. 

“Oh Severus, I don’t think I’m going to last too long,” Hermione gasped. Just as her words registered, he felt her fluttering around him and he swore he saw stars.

He wasn’t going to last long either. She was too much.

“Ah... lord!” Hermione’s expression of ecstasy crumbled, her eyes wincing as she grabbed her arm. 

Damn, damn!

Severus stilled, his hands desperation replaced with concern. “Are you alright?” He brushed her sweat-dampened hair from her forehead and caressed her with care, contracting his core with all his might to quell his desire. “Do you need me to fetch the salve?” 

“No...” Hermione replied sadly, unseating herself from his lap and depriving him of her body. She curled up next to him and began the ministrations now familiar to him. Gripping the arm, squeezing it, pinching it with her nails, anything to maintain blood flow through it. 

Severus gave one disappointed look at his erection and sighed. “I insist. I’ll go get the salve.” He swung his legs over the bed and made for the bathroom and with every step he came to terms with how it was to be. This was their future, brilliant sex and horrid timing. 

As Severus reached for the amber pot of salve, he smiled to himself briefly. Yes, she was brilliant. 

Back in the bedroom, Hermione was nearly passed out in the center of his bed, her eyes screwed shut and arm clenched painfully. Hermione didn’t respond as he joined her in bed. Poor girl.

It was only when the metal lid was deposited on the bedside table that she stirred awake. 

“Oh, you got the salve...” Hermione whimpered. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Severus replied. Silly witch, as if there was any other option. He took two fingers and scooped out some salve to administer the soothing properties to her himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d massaged the substance into her arm, but it would be the first time doing it while they were both stark naked. 

His fingers massaged softly at first, gently working the salve into her bunched and strained muscles, then began to kneed her shoulders and back. With each release of tension, Hermione would sigh in a deep, bone weary sort of way, melting into the bed linens. Severus tried desperately to ignore the way his body responded to massaging Hermione. He had to remind himself that this was for her benefit alone. 

And then she moaned. 

He’d just dug a knuckle into the base of her neck when she’d done it, moaned and leaned back against the pillows. The sound of it made him ache for her. 

“Are you... suitably relaxed?” he inquired, a tinge of longing in his voice. “How is your pain?” 

“It’s less now...” Hermione replied in a murmur, her face half hidden in the pillow. “I’m lucky I get to relieve massaged from someone who knows what they’re doing.” 

He felt himself flush, a bit from her praise, but mostly from the way her body appeared spread out so languidly on his sheets. Severus stroked a finger over her bare shoulder, then left a lingering kiss on the spot. Hermione’s eyes opened with a flutter of her lashes, and at seeing her curious amber, Severus felt bid to kiss her again, this time more intimately. 

His fingers slid down her arms and to her sides, caressing her as he kissed between her breasts. 

“Severus...” Hermione gasped. “What...?” 

“Do you feel up to receiving something else from me?” Severus murmured hoarsely. “I want you to go to bed with a smile on your face, not a grimace.” He moved even lower on her body, peppering her with kisses all the way, and then parting her thighs. Hermione relaxed into his arms, knees opening to reveal her beautifully slick center, pink and inviting Severus to taste. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione moaned softly, disbelievingly. 

“Can’t you guess?” Severus replied, stroking two fingers down her center then parting her lips, exposing her little bud to his gaze. Impatiently, Severus gave her a long lick, flicking the tip of his tongue against her clitoris. 

Hermione shivered, moaning and tossing her head back. “Oh...!”

The pleasure at hearing her vocalize more than made up for being to finish what they’d started earlier. 

  
Severus spent the evening showing Hermione just how thorough a man he truly was.   
  


As promised, Severus made the breakfast and coffee in the morning, and as promised, Hermione was not late to her meeting. 

-

Many months later .

Severus climbed the stairs to their bedroom. It still shocked him to think about it, theirs. In his life, he had never shared anything meaningful with anyone until now. Hermione now lived full time with him at his home and quickly it had become their home. Their little respite from the outside world. From work, from the gossip that inevitably came when their relationship became more... publicly known. Severus has been apoplectic when the Prophet has reported on their accidental ice cream double date with the Potters, and he’d wanted to blame them, too, but of course it wasn’t their fault. They were hounded even more by the press in their daily life. 

Speaking of her friends...

“Hermione?” Severus called, rapping his knuckles softly on the half open door. When no response came, he pushed the door open and flicked the light on. 

Inside, Hermione was curled on her side, covered by a blanket and looking absolutely miserable. She’d not been having an easy go of it lately, her arm giving her a lot of trouble. This was her second week off work, and Severus dreaded to think how long this bought would last. Poor girl was practically clawing at the walls unable to go back to her office. 

“Mmm?” was her response. 

“It’s the Weasley birthday tonight,” Severus reminded her. “With your pain lately, I really don’t think we ought to go, but I knew you’d want to be reminded in case.” 

Hermione groaned, wriggling out from under the blanket. “Oh lord, I can’t believe I forgot. What time is it?” 

Severus rolled his eyes, leaning against the door frame. “You’re allowed to forget things when you’re up all night in pain.” 

“But it’s Henry’s second birthday, I can’t just...” Hermione murmured wearily, attempting to sit up against the headboard. “Lord, it’s half past six! The party is almost already over.” 

“Yes,” Severus insisted. “You can, and you will.” Severus strode over to her side of the bed and gently stroked Hermione’s hair. “I’ll send over the gift and a note explaining. At this point, everyone will be understanding and you know it. Don’t push yourself.” 

“I feel so rotten about it,” Hermione said sadly. Her pitiful voice was like a punch to the gut. 

Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can visit when you’re feeling better, but until then, you need your rest.” 

Severus began to leave, but stopped as he felt a tug on his sleeve. Hermione was holding onto him, her big eyes beckoning him to stay. 

“Or I could make us a pot of tea,” he added, pleased to see it was the correct thing to offer. Hermione lit up at the prospect. 

“Would you? That would be wonderful,” Hermione encouraged, the first smile on her lips he’d seen in a few days. 

“I shall only be a moment,” he assured her, pleased to see awake and present. 

In the kitchen, Severus considered alterations to his NervEase potion, as he often did when caring for his partner. The potion had been a success, even with the stronger restrictions on its sale that Severus had insisted upon, but still Hermione could not use it. One more, Hermione had attempted going back on it, doses monitored and carefully measured, but the results had been anything but satisfactory. Unlike before, Hermione did not become dependent, but her system flat out rejected the potion. Her first and last night back on the potion began with her violently vomiting and ended with her stomach being magically pumped at Mungo’s. 

Suffice to say, he was now considering alternative treatment options for his Hermione. 

This reverie was suddenly interrupted by an insistent tapping at the window. A mangy owl was trying to pry open the latch with its beak. 

“Lord, wait just a moment you impatient thing,” Severus grumbled, placing his teaspoon down and opening the window to admit the beast. It flitted in for only a moment, long enough to unceremoniously deposit the letter it was carrying on the countertop before darting back out into the night. 

“Little bastard,” Severus commented as he reached for the note. There was no address on the exterior, no envelope or seal. Severus wondered if he should wait to hand it over to Hermione, seeing as her friends were rarely formal enough to mail their letters properly. 

The kettle whistled, and Severus set the note aside to make a pot of tea. After loading the tray with biscuits, he took the lot back to present to Hermione. After presenting her with a warm cup, curiosity won out, spurring Severus to unroll the note and scan the contents. 

And Severus saw red.

_ “Hermione,  _

_ You are bloody unbelievable, you know that?We excused your behavior for far too long because you were ill and all, but you bloody missed my son’s, your godson’s, birthday! You really act so much better than all of us, don’t you? Especially since you started seeing that beak-nosed git. Lately I’m not sure which one of you is worse, the flake or the hermit! Don’t expect any more invitations.  _

_ \- Ron” _

The note made his blood boil. So Ron Weasley was angry with her, was he? What a bloody prat... he had no right. Severus has half a mind to wring that boys freckled neck...

“You’ve gone all tense, Severus. What’s the matter?” Hermione asked, concern etched onto her face. Shakily, she set her cup down on the bedside table. 

“It’s nothing,” Severus assured her, attempting to stash the note somewhere. Hermione snatched the note from his fingers before he could hide it and read it quickly. The disappointment on her face killed him to see. 

“Ron’s angry with me...” Hermione said weakly, her posture beginning to droop.

“Want me to hex him?” Severus offered in a bored tone, attempting to salvage her mood. “I know some very inventive and untraceableones.” 

His words had the intended effect as Hermione giggled, tossing the note to her bedside table. “No... but thank you.” 

“I would do anything for you, Hermione,” Severus promised earnestly. 

“I know, darling.” Hermione’s expression then darkened. “He had the gall to blame you. I can’t believe it. He has the right to be irritated with me, but not with you.” 

“He has no right, Hermione,” Severus countered, scowling. “And if he will blame anyone, let him blame me. I will always choose your best interest.” He busied himself with pouring another cup of tea, considering what sort of hex he could sling the damnable redheads way. 

“Severus, you’re smiling,” Hermione pointed out, suspicious. “Are you thinking about hexing him?” 

Severus said nothing, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow.

Hermione snorted. “Think of any good ones?” 

“A veritable Christmas list of them,” he replied in good humor. 

Hermione laughed heartily, then paused as she glanced to that dratted note from Weasley, and for a moment Severus was concerned. “It's you and me against the world, Severus,” Hermione sighed, grabbing the note and flipping it over.

"I beg your pardon? You make it sound as if we are partners in some great crime,” Severus replied, smirking. 

"Aren't we?" Hermione smiled faintly as she tossed the note into the wastebasket, then reached for her own cup of tea, her weak hand folded in her lap. “Committing the cardinal sin of self-preservation." 

That had Severus barking out a laugh, placing his cup down before he stained the quilt. "You are delightful, Hermione," Severus admitted almost breathlessly. She flushed a lovely pink and Severus had the sudden yet persistent desire to ask her to marry him. Was it insane to think so? They hadn't been together all that long. No, Severus corrected himself. Romantically, maybe not long, but friends for the better part of the year. They had both been through hell for one another and Severus would willingly do it again. It fascinated him to think back, to trace how their relationship had evolved from conversations over tea to confidences in his bed, and now that he had her here, Severus never wanted to let her go. 

"Severus, do you..." Hermione looked at him then. "What's the matter now?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied, giddy. He took her tea cup from her hand and set it down on the nightstand then wrapped her up in his arms before he could lose his nerve. 

"Severus?" 

"I love you, Hermione," he murmured ardently. "Run away with me." 

"Oh," Hermione sighed happily. He could feel her smile against his chest. "But I already have, you dear man, and I'm desperately in love with you."

That night was not the night he proposed, though they eventually did marry, when the timing of it all was right. And some nights Hermione was in too much pain to suffer his sardonic behavior, and sometimes he was to depressed to care about being anything more than alive, but they always supported one another. Misanthropic? Perhaps. But other people didn't quite hold the same appeal as another night in with their favorite people; each other. Some people called their relationship a dependancy, some suggesting they  must be miserable, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. 

They were happy. Truly happy, even as they suffered the bad days in between the good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I know I’ve kept you all waiting, and I sincerely apologize. I’ve finally managed to find a vpn that won’t crap out on me mid upload.


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